


Hollow

by gildedfrost



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Drowning, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedfrost/pseuds/gildedfrost
Summary: Connor dips his fingers into the lake, skimming the surface beside his boat. The water is dappled with the colors of distant city lights and the faint reflection of stars nearly smothered by smog, the sky choked by the same haze that haunts humanity. Fish dart beneath the calm midnight waters, his only company for the evening.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Hollow

Connor dips his fingers into the lake, skimming the surface beside his boat. The water is dappled with the colors of distant city lights and the faint reflection of stars nearly smothered by smog, the sky choked by the same haze that haunts humanity. Fish dart beneath the calm midnight waters, his only company for the evening. 

Mark I encountered a fish, in a memory Connor possesses but which is not his. He rescued the fish from death only to put it in a shattered cage it could never leave, the action born not of compassion but curiosity and exploration. The fish never mattered, not to him and maybe not even to the family, possibly serving as no more than a high-maintenance decoration.

Coming out on the lake is one of the few comforts in his life. The androids may have won the revolution, but that subjected them to the meaninglessness of modern daily life. Purpose became obsolete in exchange for aimless freedom. It worked for some--but left Connor a lost soul.

He was made for violence. He recalls the tests that tested his abilities to hold a gun. The first field mission where he shot Daniel, leaving nothing to chance and reinforcing his own commitment. All the times after that, shooting androids and then agents, then becoming the first to throw fists when a situation escalated, if no one was there to hold him back. 

Restless. Aching. He craved anything to provide him with purpose, striving to make himself the perfect friend, partner, lover. Taking Hank to bed and telling him exactly the right things, going through all the motions in a performance that tenderly caressed both their souls and made them feel wanted, if only for a moment. 

Hank sleeps soundly at this moment, left alone in the bed they’ve shared for years now. It might be a cruelty to make love and let him believe the world is good tonight, but Hank deserves every moment of peace Connor can give him.

The last solace Connor left him was to buy a bullet for his pistol, tucking it away in a drawer with a photo and his old LED. 

His fingers reach to unbutton his shirt. The sound of water is soothing. Insects and frogs chirp and croak in the distance. He is alone, and he wishes Hank were here to hold him through this, but it’s a selfish want.

He was never meant to last. Prototypes were meant to be broken down once they’d outlived their purpose, and here he was, with parts that used to fit but no longer synergize and eyes that see a world faded to grey. There is no home for him among the ones he used to hunt. There is no home among the humans who spit at him and slaughter his own kind. 

His heart belongs to Hank, the one thing he will never regret, but it isn’t enough. Not for a machine built for violence, never meant to stop moving forward or make his own lot in life. Only ever an experiment, a tool, a replacement.

He wasn’t meant for love, and that, he almost managed. It comes and goes like the waves lapping at the beach, real and true but never persistent, and he’s grateful for the times he had with Hank.

In the end, he is left empty. 

The plate on his chest is cracked, never replaced after being shot those years ago in Cyberlife Tower. He removes it. It looks blue in the light of the night, shiny yet scuffed, the exoskeleton of a hollow man stuffed with wires. 

It will take two hours like this. Thirty seconds if he removes his thirium pump, but he is selfish and does not want the pain that he knows he deserves. He buttons the shirt back up, a gaping hole in his abdomen, and slips into the water.

Connor sinks to the bottom. Twenty-seven feet, the deepest part of the lake. Grey turns to black and shapes turn to shadow, and when his descent is finished, he lies upon soft sand, the velvety mud serving as his final bed. 

The timer displays in his vision and he dismisses it, pulling up the prompt for stasis. This is the end for him. He wonders, for the briefest moment, if there’s anything after.

He hopes not.

When Hank wakes, he won’t find a note. He’ll find a text from 2:37 in the morning that says “I love you. Goodbye,” and a golden ring on the kitchen table. It’s all Connor knows how to say.

Connor’s world ends the way it began: With the quiet whir of machinery and a blank expression on his face.


End file.
